


Mandrake Madness, Part 1: Severus Snape

by dkwilliams



Series: Mandrake Madness [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5066740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/pseuds/dkwilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape has an unexpected encounter with a young mandrake and must live with the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mandrake Madness, Part 1: Severus Snape

**Author's Note:**

> Originally part of "From Dusk 'til Dawn", the Harry Potter/Severus Snape Fuh-Q-Fest. The challenge was: While visiting Sprout's green house for ingredients, Snape unwittingly stumbles on a teenage mandrake halfway out of his pot. They stop, look at each other, and the mandrake screams. Harry finds Snape some time later.
> 
> NOTES: / / indicates thoughts throughout the story.

As I headed towards Hogwarts, I looked up at the darkening sky and scowled. I had just spent two hours harvesting precious ingredients from the Forbidden Forest, ingredients that would be irreparably damaged were they to get wet. I calculated that my odds on making it inside Hogwarts before the deluge hit were dismal, and quickly diverted my path towards the greenhouses.

I reached them just in time. The sudden burst of rain and hail pelted the roof above me, shaking the glass structure, and for a moment I feared that the entire structure might come down. But almost before I finished thinking that, the protective spells warding the greenhouses kicked in and the hailstones bounced off harmlessly.

Still, there was no doubt that the weather was going to keep me trapped here for some time, so I decided to make the best of the situation. Professor Sprout had let me know earlier that week that several of the plants I needed for restocking my shelves were nearly ready to be harvested. I decided to have a look at them, to gauge their readiness myself. I had several potions orders to fill for Poppy, and with that thought in mind, I made my way through the rows of plants.

I was taking a shortcut through greenhouse #3 when the awareness of movement made me stop in my tracks. / /Appalling brats,/ / I thought in disgust. / /Taking advantage of a half-holiday and the rain to cavort out here./ /

Out loud I said, "There's no use in hiding. I've heard you, so you'd best come out and take what's coming to you."

There was no reply, only that rustling noise again. Irritated, I stalked in the direction of the sound as I snapped, "Very well. That will be twenty points from each of your Houses, _plus_ detention and - "

I stopped abruptly, my eyes widening in horror as I realized what I was seeing. The young mandrake stopped as well, half out of its pot, and for a moment we stared at each other. And then our twin screams shook the glass around us.

 

* * *

I was aware of an odd ringing sound in my ears as I lay in the darkness. I frowned; surely it wasn't night already? I could remember quite clearly that it had been afternoon when I left the Forbidden Forest and I hadn't wasted _that_ much time in the greenhouses, had I?

There were voices nearby - the miscreants I had meant to flush out, no doubt. I concentrated and the voices became a little clearer.

" - find him?" That was Albus' voice, and I wondered what he was doing out here in the greenhouses. The image of the Headmaster cavorting out here like the students made me shudder.

"In the greenhouse. Mr. Potter was on his way back from Hagrid's and heard Severus scream. He found Severus lying on the ground, unconscious. Fortunately, Mr. Potter had the presence of mind to put on a set of earmuffs before going into that greenhouse."

/ /Well, I'm conscious now. Are you going to let me out of here, or do I have to lie here and listen to you go on and on about Perfect Potter?/ / The room was too dark for me to see anything and I scowled. / /And light a few candles, for Merlin's sake!/ /

"Your prognosis, Poppy?"

"Not good, I'm afraid. Fortunately, it was a teenager, or he'd be dead."

"I never thought to warn him about the mandrakes." That was Sprout's voice, and she sounded very upset about something. "He hardly ever visits the greenhouses on his own, so I didn't think…"

"It's _my_ fault," said a miserable young male voice.

/ /Ah, Potter. I should have known that whatever's wrong with me was somehow your doing./ /

"It was _my_ pot."

"Now, Mr. Potter, you can't blame yourself," Sprout said briskly. "It's perfectly normal for a teenage mandrake to break curfew by sneaking out of its pot."

/ /Wonderful,/ / I thought sourly. / /A mandrake that behaves just like Potter and his wretched father./ /

"Professor Sprout is right, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice gentle. "This was all a terrible accident, something that couldn't be foreseen."

/ /Is anyone going to tell me what in bloody blazes is wrong with me?/ / I snapped. The darkness seemed to press in even closer, and a sudden chill filled me. / /I'm blind, aren't I?/ / The idea of never being able to see my lab again filled me with dread, and for a moment I wished that the mandrake had been older, that I had died.

"How - how long do you think he'll be like this?" Harry's voice asked tremulously.

"There's no way of knowing," Poppy's voice said solemnly. "He could be unconscious for hours, or days or…"

"Or years," Potter's voice finished, sounding bleak.

/ /Unconscious? I'm not unconscious. I'm perfectly aware and…oh, God! No one can hear me. Am I mute as well as blind?/ /

"Poppy!" Sprout sounded so surprised and pleased that I was stunned for a second time. "He's moving! He's awake!"

There was the sound of feet approaching and a cool pressure against my forehead. "No, it's just muscle spasms, I'm afraid," Poppy said with a sigh. "Quite common in patients like this."

/ /Patients like _what_?/ / I demanded. / /What's _wrong_ with me?/ /

There was no reply, only the darkness that swallowed me up again.

* * *

I drifted to awareness an indeterminable time later, aware of two things: the smell of peppermints and the gentle hand on mine. I smiled.

/ /Albus./ /

"My dear boy." Dumbledore's voice sounded sad and tired. "Whatever are we to do with you? Even Fawkes doesn't seem to be able to heal you."

/ /What's wrong with me, Albus?/ / I felt frantic. / / Why won't anyone tell me?/ /

"Albus, I must insist that you let my patient rest," Poppy's voice said gravely, from a few feet away.

/ /No! I've rested enough!/ / I snapped. / / Albus, don't leave me!/ /

"Very well, Poppy." There was the sound of a chair moving, then the feel of warm fingers touching my shoulder. "Sleep well, Severus."

/ /Don't leave!/ /

There was the sound of a door closing. The darkness was all around me, and with the darkness was a deathly stillness. Not a glimmer of light, not a hint of sound, nothing but darkness and silence. Was this what it was like to be dead? This absence of anything? _Was_ I dead? Would I just lie here forever, till my body crumbled into dust? Would my mind be aware of the crumbling, or would I lose that, too, before the final end? I could feel a single tear gather in each eye and slide down my cheeks.

There was a rustling nearby, and I found my ears eagerly grabbing for the sound. Fabric brushed against the floor, against a chair, against the side of the bed.

"Professor?" a soft voice asked breathlessly.

I didn't know whether to smile or grimace. / /Potter./ /

"I couldn't sleep, and I thought you might like some company," Potter whispered. I heard a match strike and then the faint sizzle as a candle was lit. I was aware of a faint light off to my left side, and for some reason this cheered me immensely.

I felt Potter lean over me. "You've been crying!" Potter said in surprise. "I was right! You _can_ hear us, can't you? And I'll bet you haven't the faintest idea what's happened."

/ / Ten points to Gryffindor,/ / I thought sourly. I heard the chair being moved closer to the bed and someone settle into it, then Potter was speaking again.

"You came upon a mandrake, getting out of its pot. Fortunately, it was still young, so when it screamed, it didn't kill you. You blacked out and you haven't regained consciousness yet. Well, maybe you have, but you can't seem to communicate with us. I don't suppose you could open your eyes or squeeze my hand, could you, Professor?"

/ / So that warmth is Potter holding my hand./ / I didn't know whether to be incensed at the boy's presumption or relieved that someone was there.

"No, I didn't think so." Potter sounded sad, and I couldn't understand that. No doubt the rest of the school was out celebrating my -- what would you call this? Illness? Injury? Really, Potter's excessive guilt complex was most annoying.

"Anyway, you just rest and get better, okay? I'll stay with you till morning."

I refused to think how comforting that idea was. Instead, I let the darkness pull me back down again.

* * *

"Hello, Professor."

/ / Back again, Potter? What studies are you neglecting now? And how are your devoted acolytes getting on without you?/ /

"It's a Hogsmeade weekend - that's why it's been a bit quiet around here."

/ / Not for long. I expect Poppy will have her usual assortment of upset stomachs and absurd injuries to treat tonight. Or maybe not - _you're_ not in Hogsmeade, for some bizarre reason. / /

"The Owl mail delivered your copy of 'Cauldrons Quarterly' today. I thought you might want it."

/ / Lovely. In case it has escaped your notice, Potter, I have a little problem _reading_ these days. Much less _holding_ a magazine./ /

"I thought you might like me to read it to you."

/ / I'd sooner swallow ground glass. Oh, all right. Read it, then./ /

There was the sound of a chair being drawn closer to the bed and the rustle of pages.

"Um, well, here's the 'In the News' section. 'Renowned potion maker, Dervillian Smidge - "

/ / Renowned? Smidge couldn't make a Pepper-up Potion without help! / /

" - was recently awarded the Golden Cauldron award for his work on potions for wart removal."

/ / Now _that's_ groundbreaking,/ / I thought sarcastically.

"When asked to comment on his award, Smidge modestly said that he was just happy to be of service to the Wizarding community. Despite the value of Smidge's work -

/ / Which we both know is zed./ /

" - it is this Writer's opinion that he wouldn't have won the award if it weren't for the unexpected illness of Potion Master Severus Snape. Readers will recall that I predicted that Professor Snape would win the coveted Golden Cauldron award for his break-through work on potions for the cure or control of lycanthropy…" Potter's voice wavered before continuing, "…however, Professor Snape's collapse before he could submit his findings left the Academy scrambling for a replacement candidate. This Writer, in particular, hopes that Professor Snape's recovery will be swift, if this is an example of the caliber of work being done in his absence."

The pages rustled again. "Professor? We - I didn't know. About the award. I'm sorry you didn't get it."

/ / It's just an award, Potter. Not the end of the world./ / I couldn't help but be touched, though, by the genuine sadness in Potter's voice.

"Shall I read more, then? Here's an article on efficient use of all parts of the Asian Longhorned Beetle. Looks rather interesting."

As Potter began reading, I was surprised to find that I enjoyed the sound of the boy's voice. He'd gotten past the awkward cracking stage, apparently, and his voice had settled into a rather pleasant tenor. Sometime, while I wasn't looking, Potter had grown up.

Startled by that revelation, I only listened with half an ear while Potter continued to read.

* * *

"Happy Christmas, Sir."

/ / Christmas? Surely not - it was only Halloween a few days ago. / / Although I had been vaguely aware of time passing, time measured by visits from Potter and Albus, plus Poppy's infernal _fussing_ , it was impossible that I had been lying here for two months. No doubt it was a trick of some kind. Potter was fond of tricks.

"I brought you something."

/ / A present? From Potter? The end of the world must be approaching. / /

"Hermione suggested it, actually. It's a book - 'The Life and Times of Nicholas Flamel'. We thought, both of you being potions masters, you might enjoy it. Hermione says it's pretty good. Anyways, I thought it might make a nice change from 'Cauldrons Quarterly'. Shall I start? 'Nicholas Flamel was born at the beginning of one of the most interesting times in recent history, commonly referred to as the Renaissance era, in the town of - "

"Harry? What are you doing in here?"

/ / Blast! It's that Weasley brat. Just when it was getting interesting, too./ /

"Reading."

/ / I believe that's obvious, Potter, even to Mr. Weasley./ /

"What for? Snape's _unconscious_ , Harry! The slimy bastard's not going to hear a bloody word you say!"

/ / Which just shows how little you know, Mr. Weasley. And considering that you spent the better part of your time in my classroom in a dubious state of consciousness and still managed to absorb a modicum of knowledge, I would think you'd know better./ /

"You don't know that, Ron. The Muggle books Hermione got on coma patients says that they are often aware of what it going on around them, and even able to quote back things other people said while they were in the coma."

"You don't _really_ think that, do you, Harry?"

/ /You sound nervous, Mr. Weasley. Afraid of my retribution for that 'slimy bastard' crack? You should be./ /

"And anyways, why would _you_ care? He's done nothing but make your life hell since we were First Years."

"Did you want me for something, Ron?"

/ / Answering a question with another question, Potter? How Slytherin of you./ /

"We're getting ready to leave for the station. I just wanted to see if you'd change your mind, if you'd come and spend Christmas with us. Mum says there's plenty of room."

"Thanks, Ron, but I'd rather stay here this year. The Burrow's going to be pretty crowded, what with Hermione and her folks visiting and the wedding to plan for and everything. I'd just be in the way."

"You could never be in the way, Harry. I just - you've been awful quiet since I told you about Hermione and me. I thought…you're not mad, are you?"

"Of course not! I'm happy for both of you, really."

"Because I thought maybe you were interested in Hermione, too."

"I am _definitely_ not interested in Hermione." Harry's voice was dry. "She's my friend and a nice girl and everything, but, well, she's not my type."

"Harry, you've barely dated! How would you know what 'your type' is?"

"Well, for one thing, Hermione's the wrong gender."

There was silence while Weasley and I both digested that statement. "You're saying that you prefer blokes?"

"Yes. I - is this going to be a problem for us, Ron?"

"Are you serious? My brother Bill's as bent as they come, and we get along fine. Unless - you're not interested in _me_ , are you?"

I heard Potter's soft laugh, something I don't recall ever hearing before. It was rather nice; Harry should laugh more often.

"No, I can safely say that I'm not interested in you, Ron."

There was a sound of relief from Weasley. "Well, that's all right, then. See you after the Hols."

"See you, Ron. Give my love to your Mum and the others." There was the sound of retreating footsteps, then a soft sigh from Potter. I wondered if, despite what he'd said, Potter would rather be with the Weasley family and was surprised to feel a pain in my chest at that thought.

"Now, where were we?" A hand settled briefly on mine, squeezing slightly, and I felt the heaviness lift. "Oh, yes. ' - commonly referred to as the Renaissance era, in the town of…' "

* * *

"You _can't_ send him to St. Mungo's! You just _can't_!"

I was startled out of whatever they called this dream state between being asleep and being aware by Potter's passionate outcry.

"Mr. Potter, we have no choice." That was Minerva's voice, sounding regretful but firm. I could hear the strain in her voice; despite our House rivalries, we genuinely respected each other and it seemed my incapacitation was seriously affecting her.

"Of _course_ we have a choice! He can stay here."

I heard Poppy sigh. "He's been like this for over two months, and we just have to face the fact that he may never recover. Albus, I'll contact St. Mungo and have them arrange transport."

/ / St. Mungo's! Albus, no! You can't let me go there! I'll go mad without - I can't go there!/ /

"You can't just stick Professor Snape in St. Mungo's and forget all about him!" Harry was saying hotly. I was surprised by the vehemence in his voice.

"Mr. Potter." Poppy's voice sounded understanding but adamant. "In his present state, Severus needs constant care and tending, and I just don't have the time to devote to one patient."

"Then I'll do it."

"You'll do what, Mr. Potter?" Minerva's voice sounded suspicious and I wanted to grin. She _should_ be suspicious - Merlin alone knew what idea the boy had taken into his head.

"I'll take care of the professor."

/ / What?/ /

"What?" Poppy sounded startled and I didn't blame her. If I could move my jaw, it would be on the floor.

"Mr. Potter, you don't know anything about taking care of an invalid!"

/ / Well, he didn't know anything about defeating a Dark Wizard, but he did a bloody fine job of it. What am I saying? I'm defending _Potter_!/ /

"I can learn." There was a stubborn tone in that voice, one I had become very familiar with. "It's six months till the end of the year. If you'll let the Professor remain here, I can take mediwizard classes part-time over the next six months."

"What about your regular classes? You have your NEWTS to take."

"I could take them early, couldn't I? Or I could just leave school now and take the Professor with me. I don't actually have to finish - I already have my Apparating license and I'm of age - is anyone going to tell _me_ that I can't practice magic?"

/ / Not bloody likely,/ / I snorted.

"Leave school?" I smirked at the outraged tone in Minerva's voice. "You'll do no such thing! Albus, tell Mr. Potter he is to do no such thing!"

"I don't think I can," Albus sounded amused and I had a sudden suspicion that _he_ had planted this idea into Potter's brain. "As Harry so rightly pointed out, he is of age and may leave if he pleases."

"But his education!" Minerva protested.

"Might I suggest a compromise?"

/ / Watch out, Minerva. Albus' 'compromises' have landed me in more trouble than anything else./ /

"Mr. Potter remains in school, continuing to take his regular morning classes in Potions, Transfigurations, and Charms. Provided he passes his NEWTS in History of Magic, Magical Creatures, and Divination, he will then devote his afternoons to mediwizard training. Since Poppy's time is limited, I will arrange for a qualified mediwitch or wizard to come here for that training."

"I suppose that would do," Minerva said slowly. "Mr. Potter?"

"Sounds fair to me."

"Very well, then." Albus sounds abnormally pleased with himself. "Mr. Potter, you have a week to prepare for your NEWTS. In the meantime, I will make the necessary arrangements."

/ / Albus, you're not really going to leave me in Potter's hands, are you? He'll kill me within a month!/ /

 _Then I suggest you wake up, dear boy_.

/ / Albus?/ /

There was no reply. Not that I expected one. I supposed I would just have to do as he said. As always.

 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a part two, from Harry's POV moving forward, but it has been delayed by writer's block and then rampant plot bunnies elsewhere.


End file.
